Married, With No Husband

Nobody ever tells you that, when you become a widow, your entire identity changes. Even my banker has kindly informed me that "Mrs. My Husband's Name" does not exist. Say what? Though I have signed my name that way for over thirty-one years, I can no longer do so. Everywhere are reminders that my place in this world has changed. Though still married in my heart, I am no longer part of a couple. When our son Jonathan died, my heart was ripped from my chest, and my world stopped turning, but I still knew who I was. My primary roles - Papa's wife, my children's mother - did not change.

I'm still a mother (though that role has also changed), but I am no longer a wife. Even at extended family gatherings my place is different. My parents no longer allow me to sit at the same spot at their table where for years I have sat at our family dinners. They mean well, of course, but sitting in a different chair is actually harder for me. I was comfortable in my old place, thank you very much. I liked it there. No matter where they put me, Papa isn't going to sit beside me. A new chair isn't going to change that.

If you are tempted to pity me, please don't! There's plenty of that from little old ladies who abruptly stop talking when I enter a room. ; ) Regular readers of this blog will surely know that I post this entry with a twinkle in my eye and a song in my heart. I'm just stating facts. My peace, happiness, and security have nothing to do with my circumstances or what other people think of me. God knows exactly who I am and where I'm going. He's revealing it to me one day at a time, and that's plenty good enough for me! : )